A friend I haven’t seen in years wrote me to say he enjoyed my blog and he could see how happy I am to be with Maria. “I’ve never actually known you when you were happy,” he said, it sent a bit of a chill down my spine.

Maria, I said, is always herself, that’s the best I can do for you. Whenever I see her out in the pasture, shoveling manure, in her leggings and skirts and necklaces and many colors and imported Thrift Store boots, I am reminded of just how much herself she is.

When I met Maria, I don’t think either one of us really know who we were or wanted to be. We were both broken, but I was in more pieces, I think, once Maria started doing her art, she simply started rising and has yet to stop. I think she will eventually soar right up through the clouds.

Looking at the photos of George O’Keefe in preparation for our trip to Mexico tomorrow, I keep thinking of Maria, I am not comparing their artistry or fame, but I sense the same kind of identity in O’Keefe, she knew precisely who she was and insisted on being who she was, she permitted no one to tell her who she is.

(I am not like either of them, but I have this same instinct when it comes to dealing with social media, I bristle every time someone tells me what to do or who I am or what I am feeling.) Identity is precious, and you have to have a strong sense of it to go out in the morning many mornings and shovel manure in your wedding dress, which cost $15 in a Thrift shop to begin with.

I married well. We are both on an identity mission together much of the time. I have an identity too, it is not as exotic as O’Keefe in her spooky black designer outfits or Maria in her many skirts and colors, but is is mine. I wear a blue shirt and blue jeans every day of my life, no matter where I am or what I am doing. I care nothing about clothes or fashion, clothes are just something to cover my body and keep me warm.

Maria considers it a great breakthrough that I am wearing red suspenders. Many people have remarked on them.

Susan Jackson wrote a lovely message saying she has always seen Maria as a New Mexico kind of artist, and I know what she means, that is so, I think. But identity is a tricky thing, and I think our identity often comes from the place where  you find yourself, where you learn who you are.

O’Keefe clearly found her place in New Mexico, it is a special place. Maria found herself up here in the country, in the mountains and hills and woods. That is where she is drawn, and is most at home. It will be  fascinating to see how she reacts to New Mexico again, I know it is important to her.

This farm, this country, is my place also, it is where I have found myself and learned who I am. In this way, it is in my blood. I was reading this morning about Henry Roth who write the novel “Call It Sleep,” considered to be the greatest American novel of the twentieth century. After publication of this book he vanished, he had fled to New Mexico, where he spent the rest of his life living and writing in a trailer. I’d love to find it and pay some respects.

I also want to see D.H. Lawrence’s grave in Taos, if that’s possible. Otherwise, we will be exploring galleries and museums, I guess and maybe a pueblo or two.

I love Maria’s sense of identity, I love that she is always herself, and has no false or phony faces to put on. She knows who she is, and if the New Mexico desert was O’Keefe’s place, Maria is in her place, at least for now.